A Kind of Magic
by hakuchihirolover
Summary: Basic Story idea; what if Harry Potter was really Cole and Phoebe's son. Read to find out more. Also ChrisWyatt, just so you know.
1. Prologue

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AN: THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG STORY, BUT IT IS ALSO GOING TO BE WRITTEN OVER A LONG PERIOD OF TIME, AS I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF EXAMS AND ANY UPDATES FOR ANY OF MY STORIES ARE GOING TO BE MORE THAN SLIGHTLY SPORADIC

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED WITHIN, THEY ALL BELONG TO EITHER J. K. ROWLING OR CONSTANCE M. BURGE. THE PLOTLINE HOWEVER IS ALL MINE

RATING: R

Prologue

Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number 4, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thank-you very much. Well, they had been, until Halloween that year. The first day of November that year, Mrs Dursley had opened the door to collect the milk and found her dratted sister's baby wrapped in blankets on her front doorstep. She had screamed and then looked around to see if anyone on the street had noticed anything abnormal.

Petunia had then picked up the milk and brought it into the house, then she had returned to her door, looked up and down the street and then picked up the quiet complacent baby sitting patiently on her front door step. She had gingerly carried the baby into the house and placed it on the kitchen counter before shutting the door and calling for her husband.

Vernon Dursley was a large man, not yet dangerously fat, but obviously well on his way to being so. His dark hair was slicked back on his head with something that looked like petrol and his cheeks bore a startling resemblance to a puffer fish. When Mr Dursley got angry, his entire body seemed to swell up until he resembled a giant purple balloon in a pinstripe suit.

When Vernon Dursley waddled into his own kitchen after having heard his wife's scream, the last thing he had expected to see was a black-haired baby sitting placidly on his kitchen counter. He had then stamped over to his wife's side and found her holding an envelope.

He had taken the envelope from his wife's hands and torn it open with his pudgy fingers. He had unfolded the parchment that was inside and flicked his eyes over the script. As he read the letter, he paled rapidly, the red spots on his cheeks remaining, so he resembled badly mixed yoghurt.

After he had finished reading, he handed the letter to his wife, who also paled as she read the letter. When they had both read the letter, Vernon turned to Petunia,

"What are we supposed to do? We can't keep him here."

But Petunia gestured at the letter,

"They'll know if we get rid of him."

Vernon frowned,

"Well, if we keep him, where's he going to sleep?"

Petunia sniffed,

"He can't have Dudley's second bedroom. Imagine, he might contaminate our ickle-Duddydums."

Vernon scowled,

"Well, he can't go in the spare room, that's where Marge sleeps."

Petunia scowled,

"He could go in the cupboard under the stairs. Lily was always small and her freakish husband was never exactly that tall."

Vernon was just about to agree, when another voice spoke,

"Charming."

The couple whirled around, to see another couple, a younger, far more attractive couple, standing in the doorway.

The woman was one of the women whom Petunia despised. She was one of those women who woke up in the morning looking just as beautiful as they did the night before. She was dressed in black trousers and a strappy red top. The man looked dangerous, he was dark-haired and broad-shouldered. There was something in his eyes that made Petunia more afraid than she could ever remember being.

Vernon managed to find his voice to ask indignantly,

"Who are you, what are you doing in my house?"

The man looked at the woman, who nodded, as if they had been silently communicating,

"Who we are is none of your concern and we're here to collect our son."

The pale Dursleys exchanged a glance,

"Well, you're obviously in the wrong house. The only children here are our son and Petunia's nephew."

Vernon was all bluster under the dark gaze of this dangerous looking man. Petunia stepped up next to her husband, not wanting to protect her nephew, but also not wanting to have to deal with those freaks her sister had associated with. The man rolled his eyes and disappeared.

Petunia shrieked and looked around to try and see where the man had gone. She almost fainted when she saw the man appear behind her at her kitchen counter.

The stranger accorded her a dismissive glance, before picking up the baby that still lay patiently on the counter-top. The man handled the baby with a reverence that was contradictory to his previous brusque, almost harsh attitude.

By calling on hidden reserves of strength that Petunia didn't even know that she had, Mrs Dursley managed not to scream when the man disappeared again. When the man reappeared, it was by the woman, who Petunia presumed was his wife. The man gently made as if to hand the baby to the woman, when the child spoke,

"Dada,"

The words were soft in the typical lilted tones of babies, but the words themselves were obvious. The harsh brooding set of the man's face softened entirely at the soft words, and Petunia almost felt sympathetic for him, remembering fondly her own son's first words; more, with both pride and joy. Then she remembered that this man was obviously another freak like her late sister.

The man handed the child to the woman, almost reluctantly, but as the child rested in the woman's arms and then wrapped one tiny fist around the woman's outstretched pinky, the glow that lit her face was obviously enough of a reward. Still the man seemed reluctant to move far from the side of the woman and the child.

The man placed a hand on his wife's arm, but she shook her head,

"We should probably give these people a more detailed explanation, I mean, so they have something to tell that Dumbledore guy when he turns up to look for Lily and James' son."

The man frowned but nodded,

"Okay, it's just that I've missed you and we have so much time to make up for. And I just want to take our son and go home."

The woman smiled at him,

"I understand that, Cole, I mean, it's not like we've had much time to talk in between all your apologising, getting re-married and then worrying about Will."

The man, Cole, smiled self-deprecatingly,

"Phoebe, you forgot that highly entertaining incident when your sisters tried to kill me. As well as the discussion about my new powers."

The woman, Phoebe, smiled,

"How could I forget?"

Then Phoebe turned to them and spoke,

"As I am sure that that Dumbledore guy will turn up here when he finds out that Will, who you lot all know as Harry, is not here any more, I'll try to give you a brief explanation, as well as the note I'm leaving for the esteemed professor."

Vernon scowled at this comment,

"Listen, girl, we don't want any more of your kind of trash turning up here…"

However, before the fat idiot could finish this comment, Cole was on his feet, anger burning in his eyes,

"You ignorant fool, how dare you call my wife trash."

Vernon paled to an unattractive shade of puce green as he wilted under Cole's gaze. However, before the situation could escalate, Phoebe spoke,

"Cole, calm down, we won't be here long. Then we can go home, take this glamour off of Will using the Power of Three and then you can find some demons to blow up."

Cole frowned but he stopped glaring so heatedly at Vernon, who gradually regained some of his colour. After establishing an environment in which random acts of homicide were less likely to occur, Phoebe turned back to Petunia and continued to speak as if she had never been interrupted,

"Mrs Dursley, I'm not sure how much you had spoken with your sister in the period before her death, but there are some things I need to clarify. I first met your sister just over a year and a half ago, right before the birth of my son. To cut a long story short, both Lily and James were being attacked and I got them out of it. Lily and James stayed in San Francisco afterwards and Lily and I both went into labour at the same time. Lily's baby boy died during a miscarriage, but our baby was born healthy. However, due to circumstances on both sides, we both agreed that it would be better if, for at least some time, Will was to be thought of as Lily and James' son, Harry James Potter. The circumstances at my end have recently been mostly resolved, but, since Lily and James were forced to go into hiding, we have only today been able to come and retrieve our son and take him home."

Petunia nodded dazedly and Cole and Phoebe made to leave, but first Petunia shook herself out of her reverie to ask two questions,

"Who are you? What was the danger?"

Cole frowned but Phoebe answered nonetheless,

"My name's Phoebe Halliwell-Turner and this is my husband Cole Turner. As for the danger, that's personal."

And with that, the three shimmered away, leaving behind only a note and a shell-shocked couple to signal their presence.

To give the wizarding world credit, it was only one hour before Albus Dumbledore turned up on the Dursleys' front doorstep, asking where the saviour of the wizarding world was. The still shocked Dursleys repeated exactly what they had been told and handed Dumbledore the note, which he read before apparating back to Hogsmeade in a state of something resembling shock.

TWO YEARS LATER

Harry James Potter, now better known as William James Halliwell-Turner, was three and a half years old when Gideon tried to kill both of his cousins. Well, Gideon tried to kill his younger cousin Wyatt, 1 year and 9 months old, and Chris, 21 years old and from the future, not currently being born Chris in the hospital.

As everyone else was out trying to find Gideon and Wyatt, restore balance to the world or help Will's aunt give birth, Will was left alone with his aunt Paige, watching over the dying half-witch, half-whitelighter from the future.

At three and a half, Will had already started to manifest many of his powers, as well as the characteristics of his parents. Thus, the brown-haired brown-eyed boy sat quietly observing what was going on around him, already with the brooding attitude of his demonic father.

As Will's aunt Paige was out of the room where his Elder uncle Leo had lain his future son, trying to convince the cops to leave, Will was the only one who saw the portal open by Chris' bed and the watched the tall blonde stranger who emerged from it.

The blonde male was dressed all in black, with a sword strapped to his back. He stared at Will for a moment and the toddler stared calmly back. Then the man turned, dismissing the young boy and turning his attention to the feverish man lying on the bed in front of him.

Future Wyatt laid his hands on the wound on his brother's stomach and concentrated. When no golden light emitted, he swore,

"Damnit."

Will spoke then,

"That doesn't work, Uncle Leo couldn't do it an' he's an elder."

Wyatt quirked an eyebrow,

"Uncle Leo?"

Will nodded,

"Yeah, my mum's Phoebe."

Wyatt frowned slightly,

"Okay, could you go get me an athame?"

Will scowled,

"Mum says I'm no to touch athy-thingy's, but I know daddy has some hidden in the attic."

Wyatt rolled his eyes,

"Then go get one, it's the only way I can help Chris."

The three-year-old frowned slightly, but shimmered up to the attic. Wyatt quirked an eyebrow, before returning his attention to his dying brother,

"You've caused me a lot of trouble Chris and when I felt you being stabbed you caused a whole lot more."

Chris raised a hand at the sound of the voice of the brother he both feared and adored,

"Wyatt, is that you?"

Wyatt nodded,

"Yes, it's me. Save your strength, you're going to be fine, but you shouldn't try to talk."

Chris attempted to frown, but the effort was obviously too much for him in his greatly weakened state and he managed only a slight wrinkling of his brow. Wyatt sighed and pressed a kiss to his brother's forehead. The future Source spoke softly,

"You shouldn't have run, Chris."

Chris winced, though from the pain or the words it was difficult to determine. When the witch-whitelighter spoke again, his words were slurred with pain,

"…had to… couldn't stay… missed you though…"

Wyatt frowned and kissed Chris's sweaty brow again,

"I missed you too. Things are complicated but it'll work out."

Wyatt was about to say something else, when Will shimmered back into the room, holding an athame in his right hand. The young boy silently handed Wyatt the athame, before shimmering back to his vantage-point on top of the cupboard.

With a look of intense concentration on his face, Wyatt turned back to his dying brother. With an uncharacteristic gentleness, Wyatt coaxed Chris upwards slightly, settling the younger man on the pillows before slowly lowering the blankets the covered the magical wound.

When Wyatt saw the dark blood staining Chris's torn shirt, he hissed slightly. Attacking him was one thing, but when Gideon had dared to try and harm Chris, he had crossed a line without knowing it. As far as Wyatt was concerned, no one was allowed to harm Chris. If Wyatt had his way, Chris would be safely kept somewhere that only Wyatt knew about. But Wyatt also recognised that taking away Chris's freedom would take away part of the spirit that made him love the younger man.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Wyatt turned his attention back to his brother's wound. Wyatt raised his left hand and brought athame up with his right. He then slashed the silver blade across his left palm.

As blood gushed to the surface of Wyatt's palm, he lowered his hand to Chris's wound. Ignoring the pain in his hand and the hiss of pain from his brother, he pressed his palm hard onto the wound, feeling the magics in his blood mixing with the magic in the blood of his brother and mate.

Wyatt then lifted his blood stained hand from Chris's torso and raised both hands over his brother, slowly watching the glow of golden light trickling into Chris's wound. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't hear the gasps of surprise from the doorway, nor the familiar sound of orbing from outside.

However, Wyatt did hear the sound of people moving away, then the noises of someone entering the room. He looked up slightly from his task and gazed straight into the eyes of his father.

Wyatt stared up into the stunned eyes of the father he hadn't seen for five years. He was frozen for a moment, then he turned his attention back to the man dying on the bed. Golden light was still trickling into Chris's now pulsing wound, but the magic of the athame was still holding too strong a sway. Wyatt swore,

"Damnit."

Leo frowned and then turned to the boy sitting silently on the dresser,

"Will, your aunt Paige is outside. She's very worried about your cousin, so can you go and tell her everything's going to be okay?"

Will nodded and shimmered out of the room. Then Leo turned to his sons from the future and asked,

"Wyatt, what are you doing here?"

The future ruler of the world scowled,

"I felt Chris being stabbed and came back to heal him."

Leo frowned,

"Why?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes in aggravation,

"Why did I come to heal him or why did I feel him being stabbed?"

Leo shrugged in annoyance,

"Right now, I'll settle for either answer."

Wyatt sighed,

"I felt Chris being stabbed because we're bonded by blood and other ties."

Leo looked confused, but seemed willing to accept this answer.

"How are you healing Chris? I tried to earlier, but Gideon's magic stopped me."

Wyatt frowned slightly,

"I strengthened our bonds by mixing our blood again. Now, will you help me?"

Leo frowned,

"How can I help?"

Wyatt sighed,

"I can stop Chris from dying on my own, but it will take a long time for him to heal. Chris and I need to talk and we can't do that while he's recovering from a stab wound. I can channel your power as an elder into helping counteract Gideon's magic. Once I'm around the enchantments on the athame, then I can heal Chris like usual."

Leo nodded and held his hands out to his future son. Wyatt half-smiled and took his father's hands in his left. Then the twice-blessed child held his left hand out over his brother's wound.

For a second, nothing happened. Then golden light streamed out of Wyatt's extended hand, dancing around the torn edges of Chris's flesh. As the Elder and his future son watched, Chris's ruptured flesh knitted back together beneath their eyes.

After a minute, the flow of light stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Chris lay on the bed, fully healed, his torn and bloodied t-shirt the only indication that he had ever been injured.

Panting slightly, Wyatt released his father's hands and sat for a moment, regaining his strength. Leo watched in astonishment then as Wyatt turned to his brother and gently shook Chris by the shoulders.

Slowly, Chris's eyes flicked open, revealing his confused green eyes, which scanned the room in confusion for a moment, settling first on his father, then on Wyatt.

Chris froze. Then the future whitelighter raised his hand and reached out to touch Wyatt's face, as if he was unsure whether Wyatt was really there. When his fingers brushed against Wyatt's cheek, Chris shrunk back onto the raised pillows,

"Wyatt? You're here? I thought I was dreaming."

Wyatt shook his head, his blonde locks waving slightly as he did so,

"Of course I'm here, you could never hide from me, remember?"

Chris paled even more,

"I'm not going back, Wyatt, you can't make me."

Wyatt frowned,

"Well, actually, I could. But I can't. So, the whole argument is rather pointless."

Chris frowned.

"Wy, that made no sense. What aren't you telling me?"

Wyatt looked somewhat shifty, almost embarrassed. Leo watched in amazement as Wyatt tried to avoid the question and Chris fixed him with a piercing glare. Eventually Wyatt frowned and answered,

"I felt you being stabbed and I, overreacted."

Chris scowled,

"Wyatt, what did you do?"

Wyatt flushed slightly,

"Umm, I accidentallydestroyedtheworld."

Chris paled,

"Wyatt, not even you can accidentally destroy the world."

Wyatt frowned,

"Well, obviously I can."

Chris collapsed,

"Wyatt, what are we supposed to do?"

Wyatt sighed,

"I'm not sure really. I mean, I don't think we're in our past."

Chris rolled his eyes,

"Wyatt, I know the whole evil thing went to your head, but really, I didn't think you'd gone blind. Standing looking like he swallowed a fish is our father. You know, the one who's been dead for five years. And Aunt Paige is outside; Aunt Phoebe is at hospital with mum, who is in labour with me. I think we can safely assume we're in the past."

Wyatt rolled his eyes,

"I never said we weren't in the past, I said we weren't in our past. There's a difference."

Chris looked confused and Wyatt explained,

"You can't change the past, Chris. It doesn't work like that. Because, if you had gone back to our past and changed it, then you would never have had to go back to the past to change it, therefore, you would never have gone back, therefore the past would never have changed, and so on. And also, there's the mystery three year old cousin we never had, as well as many other things that are different here."

Chris frowned.

"I had wondered about Will, but what does this mean, where are we?"

Wyatt sighed,

"We're in the past, just not our past. When you tried to change the past, you came back to a different reality, a reality where things are different. And I'm not sure, but I think this reality has something to do with the kid."

Leo spoke up then,

"That makes sense. Will is a rather unique child."

Wyatt rolled his eyes,

"I'd guessed that. So, if Aunt Phoebe's his mother, who's the dad, who apparently keeps a supply of athames in the attic?"

Leo sighed,

"Will's a bit of a long story really. When he was conceived, his father was the Source, but then the girls vanquished him to the demonic wasteland and he stopped being the Source. Then he picked up loads of powers in the wastelands and came back."

Wyatt looked interested,

"His father was the Source? That's interesting. But a name would be useful now."

Leo sighed again,

"Will's father is Cole Turner. After he came back from the wasteland, Cole and Phoebe remarried and collected Will from friends of Phoebe's in England who were protecting him. But apparently, there was a prophecy about him and he now has a special destiny there as well as being half demon- half which."

Wyatt nodded slightly, then turned to Chris,

"Okay, so we're definitely in a different timeline. So what are we going to do?"

Chris frowned,

"Well, we can't go to the future now, but we could stay here I suppose."

Wyatt nodded,

"Yes. But first we need to talk."

Chris paled and shrunk back against the sheets again.

"Wyatt, please…"

Wyatt scowled,

"You left Chris. You ran away from me without permission and you dared to leave. I've been very lonely and upset without you."

Chris seemed to visibly shrivel up before Leo's eyes,

"Wyatt… I had to leave… I couldn't stay… I was going insane there…"

Wyatt reached out and absently brushed one of Chris's bangs out of his eyes. Chris winced reflexively and Wyatt sighed,

"I'm not going to hurt you, Chris. I'm very angry with you, but I'm prepared to spare you any punishment for leaving."

Chris seemed to collapse in on himself as he lay there.

"Wyatt, I'm sorry, please, don't."

Wyatt sighed and leant forward over his brother,

"I wasn't lying when I said I missed you. You've been away for a long time, Chris, but I'm sure you can make that up to me."

And with that, Wyatt leant forward, pressing his lips gently against Chris's. Chris froze for an instant, then reacted instinctively, melting into the pillows and surrendering to the gentle but insistent swipe of Wyatt's tongue across his dry lips. Chris moaned into Wyatt's mouth at the familiar feeling of this intimate penetration that he hadn't felt for so long.

Reluctantly, Wyatt pulled away, leaving Chris laying dazed on the pillows. When Wyatt spoke, there was a mix of lust and amusement in his tone,

"See, you remember well, Chris."

There was a dazed look in Chris's eyes and he murmured,

"Missed you, Wyatt."

Wyatt's face softened and he leant down and pressed a chaste kiss to Chris's still half-open lips,

"I missed you too, Chris, it's been far too long."

Chris moaned again when Wyatt pulled away, turning a challenging look at his stunned father. Wyatt glared at Leo, as if daring to say anything that might hurt Chris. Fortunately, Leo was incapable of completing full sentences,

"Wyatt… Chris… the two of you… together…"

At his father's voice, Chris shook himself out of his stupor.

"Leo, dad, I'm sorry…"

Fortunately, Leo regained the use of his brain and spoke firmly,

"You don't have to be sorry for anything, Chris. I'm just a bit upset that you didn't trust us enough to tell us."

Chris flushed with guilt and looked down as he muttered,

" 'm sorry. I thought you'd hate me."

Leo looked shocked that Chris would even think that. The Elder crossed over to his sons and, with a glance at Wyatt, wrapped his arms around Chris's trembling shoulders. Speaking softly, Leo gently supported his now rocking son,

"Hush, baby boy, it's okay. I could never hate you. Neither can your mother or anyone else. Your our sons and we love you, both of you, and, especially since we almost just lost you, I couldn't care if you were a cross-dressing, converted rabbit-worshipper with a bloody harem, as long as you're alive, safe and at home."

Chris sniffed and looked up at his father from under long lashes,

"Promise?"

Leo smiled and nodded,

"Promise."

Chris smiled tentatively and wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders. Wyatt smiled slightly as he surveyed the tableau. Then he looked up as the door swung open and Cole Turner strode into the room.

Cole looked around the room he had just entered, closed his eyes, opened them and looked around again. Deciding not to even try to decipher the tableau of Leo rocking a shaking Chris like he was a baby, Cole turned his attention to the blonde stranger. After a moment, the former Source spoke,

"You're the Wyatt from Chris's future?"

Wyatt nodded slowly, trying to work out the identity of the strange man and why he felt so familiar. Then Cole frowned,

"I thought Chris said you were the Source in your time?"

Wyatt scowled in outrage,

"What do you mean by that?"

Cole spoke slowly, carefully, choosing his words deliberately,

"Well, I was the Source for a time. So, I have a certain sensitivity towards evil, particularly the Source. You're not fully good, but you certainly aren't the Source of all evil."

Chris looked up from where he was nestled in his father's arms,

"What's he mean Wyatt, what's happened?"

Wyatt whirled on his brother,

"I don't know, I'm still evil, aren't I? What's happening to me?"

Chris shook slightly under the force of Wyatt's glare and the older man leant forward absently to comfort him. Cole gasped suddenly and Wyatt immediately whirled on the older man,

"What do you know, what's happening? I feel like I'm going insane."

Cole sighed and spoke,

"If you don't finish what you've started today, you will do."

Wyatt growled,

"Tell me what you mean."

Cole seated himself and began to speak,

"I read once, that there was a theoretical possibility that could cast the Source out of its host body. If the host had a bond to a mortal of great power and the bond was strong enough; the Source would be forced out of the body. The power this would require of course would be nearly infinite. It appears that the bond of love between you and Chris is strong enough to cast the Source out. However, the bond has not recently been renewed and you've sort of gotten stuck half way. If you stay as you are now, you will go insane and eventually go into a vegetative state for eternity. If you kill Chris, the bond will be broken and the Source will return, but the shock of breaking the bond will kill you. Renewing the bond will drive the Source from your body and free you from its control."

Wyatt didn't even stop to consider, he simply gestured with one hand and Chris was orbed into his arms, where the younger man was content to trustingly snuggle. Then Wyatt turned back to Cole,

"So, physical renewal of the bond?"

Cole nodded,

"Yes, but you must also open your minds completely to each other. But, once this is over and the Source is cast from you, it will return to the ether. However, the guilt you will feel will be terrible, you must let those who you love and love you help you, otherwise you will be driven insane."

Wyatt nodded and looked as if he were attempting to shimmer out. After a moment, he turned back to his uncle, who smiled slightly,

"You won't be able to use your powers as the Source, but I know you have plenty of your own."

Wyatt frowned and then orbed out. Cole then turned to Leo,

"Look, I've found where Barbas and Gideon are, but you need to stay here."

Leo frowned,

"Not when Wyatt needs me."

Cole sighed,

"When the Source is gone from Wyatt, he's going to need you to be there, as well as Chris, and Chris has his own problems for which he'll need his father. If I go, I can kill Gideon and Barbas, whom I've wanted dead for decades, could you do that, live with the life of an Elder on your conscience and be there for your children who will need you the most in the next few days. I already have enough lives on my conscience that one more won't hurt. Also, killing Gideon should set the world back to normal. And I promise you that I will die before I allow Gideon to even attempt to harm Wyatt again."

Leo scowled and muttered,

"You can't die, you're invulnerable."

Cole smiled slightly,

"All the more reason that I go, Gideon can't harm me and both of our wives, and Paige, would kill me if I let you get hurt. Also, Wyatt is my nephew and part of the first real family I've ever had. I will not let anyone hurt him."

Leo nodded slowly,

"Okay, you go. Just be back soon and don't get yourself killed, your wife would take it rather hard and as she's my wife's sister, my wife would get quite upset as well."

Cole nodded,

"I won't, but you might want to explain the situation to the rest of the family while I'm gone."

Even as Leo was about to protest, Cole shimmered out before he could say anything.

Wyatt and Chris did not reappear until about lunchtime the following day. Cole had restored the balance by killing Gideon, and had rescued baby Wyatt, after blowing Barbas into lots of tiny fear-demon pieces, of course. Then he had returned to the manor and collected his son, after delivering his nephew into the hands of his other aunt.

Then Cole and Paige had orbed/shimmered to the hospital, where they had found a worry-fraught Leo pacing up and down while Phoebe talked to a doctor. When Leo had seen his son, the Elder had ran down the hall and grabbed the boy out of his aunt's arms.

Leo had hugged baby-Wyatt to him like he had never wanted to let go, which was probably the case. Cole had then rushed over to his wife's side and held her as she collapsed into him, fraught with worry and the day's events.

After what seemed like hours, a doctor came and told them that they could go and see Piper and the baby. Leo had handed Wyatt to Paige, while Will clung firmly to Cole's leg.

Then Leo had entered the ward and approached his wife, and caught the first sight of his second son. After a time, though, Leo's expression had turned serious and the Elder told Piper exactly what had happened.

Piper had discharged herself from hospital the next morning, ignoring medical advice and the pleas of her obstetrician, as she had taken her new-born child and left hospital, merely hours after having given birth.

They had returned to the manor in haste, Leo orbing Piper, Chris and Wyatt; Cole shimmering back with Phoebe and Will; and Paige orbing herself home. They had entered the manor apprehensively, looking around for Wyatt and Chris. When neither of the future Halliwells appeared, Piper had gone and started to prepare a late breakfast.

After breakfast, the newly extended family had returned to the lounge, where Piper was now pacing up and down. Leo was just about to risk suggesting that, given her delicate state, she might want to sit down, when shimmering blue orbs of light indicated the return of future Wyatt and Chris.

When the blue orbs faded away, they revealed that Chris was now carrying his older brother, Wyatt seeming to be unconscious. Leo rose from his seat immediately at the sight of his sons and ran to Chris's side.

The younger man was struggling with the weight of his lover and reluctantly handed him over to his father. Leo carefully carried Wyatt's body to the sofa he had vacated and laid him there, Chris immediately sat by the blonde's side.

Leo observed the terrified look on Chris's face and asked cautiously,

"Chris, what happened?"

Chris turned to him, a look of abject terror on his face,

"I don't know. He passed out when we renewed the bond and he's been like this since."

Leo saw the fear on his son's face and knelt by him. He wrapped his arms around Chris's shoulders and held the man-child gently. Chris sat frozen for a moment before collapsing in his father's strong embrace. Leo held his son as Chris finally released all the pain he had been holding in for such a long time in pure grief.

After a time, Chris sniffed slightly and raised his head from where it had rested against his father's broad and now rather damp shirt. Leo gently stroked Chris's head and loosened his hold on the boy, allowing Chris the freedom to pull out of the loose embrace if he so desired. Chris showed no signs of wanting to let go.

Chris turned slightly in his father's embrace and shyly looked at his mother. Piper almost wept at the fear of rejection that she saw on Chris's face. She spoke,

"Oh, baby, I was so worried. I thought Gideon had killed you."

Chris sniffed and spoke softly,

"He would have, if Wyatt hadn't healed me."

Piper sighed and crossed to her son's side. Kneeling by her son and her husband she asked,

"You love him, yes? And he loves you?"

Chris nodded and Piper smiled,

"Then nothing else matters."

Chris looked up at his mother in surprise and asked,

"You don't hate me?"

Piper shook her head,

"Of course not, baby. We love you and if you're happy and you love each other, then nothing else matters."

Chris smiled shakily,

"You mean that?"

Phoebe spoke then,

"Please, Chris. This family practically coined the phrase unconventional relationships."

Chris looked around and saw that the others seemed to be in agreement and smiled shakily, pulling himself free of his father's loose hug and wiping his face on his sleeve. He got to his feet and then turned back immediately as he heard a groan from where Wyatt was lying on the sofa.

In less than a second Chris was kneeling by Wyatt's side, watching as the former-Source's eyes flickered open in slight confusion. When Wyatt saw Chris's face above him, realisation entered his eyes and he screamed. It was a scream of pure animalistic pain, one that pierced the hearts of everyone that heard it.

Wyatt then collapsed onto the sofa and started to sob, great gulping sobs of pure grief and regret. Chris stroked Wyatt's blonde hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss against the pale skin. Then the younger man turned to his family and spoke quietly,

"Do you mind if I ask you to leave us alone for a bit?"

Leo shook his head and spoke,

"No, that's fine, if that's what you want. But will you be okay?"

Chris smiled a pained half-smile,

"I'll be fine. Wyatt needs some time to learn that I still love him, that nothing he did was his fault."

Leo nodded and gestured for the others to follow him out of the room. Chris then turned back to Wyatt and spoke softly,

"It's okay Wy, it's okay. Nothing that happened was your fault."

Wyatt gulped out more sobs and then spoke quietly,

"I hurt so many people Chris, I hurt you and I swore I'd never do that."

Chris sighed and bent down to kiss Wyatt again,

"It's okay Wyatt. It was the Source that did those things, not you. As for me, you could never hurt me, Wyatt. I love you and, as a very wise person told me, nothing else matters."

Wyatt raised a hand and pressed it gently against Chris's cheek. Chris lifted his hand and held Wyatt's in it. Then he pressed gentle kisses to each fingertip, ending with a kiss to the palm. Wyatt sighed in something resembling contentment,

"You still love me?"

Chris smiled and nodded,

"Forever, that's the whole point." 1

Wyatt sighed and stroked Chris's cheek,

"I still love you, if you'll have me."

Chris smiled,

"Of course. Everything's going to be all right. I promise."

TBC.

AN: END OF THE PROLOGUE. PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, AS THIS IS MY FIRST CHARMED STORY. HOWEVER, CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ONLY, FLAMING IS OFFENSIVE AND POINTLESS.

1 THIS IS A QUOTE FROM BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER AND THEREFORE DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Albus Dumbledore looked at the tall manor in front of him once again, with great interest. He could tell just from standing outside that there was great power inside the house, even if the vibrations of power were of a different variety than those he was used to.

He checked the address on the letter once again. The venerable headmaster had kept the letter ever since he had received it nine and a half years ago. Of course, the address had only appeared on the letter that morning, the morning that Harry Potter turned eleven, or at least, according to the letter, would have turned eleven.

The story contained within the letter was so fantastical that even Dumbledore, who had seen many unbelievable things in his time, had his difficulties believing it. But there was something in the fantastical nature of the story that made it believable, something in the utter absurdity of the tale that made it seem to be more realistic.

Finally making up his mind to confront the boy who lived, even if he wasn't Harry Potter, and invite him to Hogwarts, Dumbledore mounted the steps to the front door. Reaching out with one hand, he rapped sharply on the shining brass doorknocker. After a moment, a voice sounded inside the house,

"Wyatt, will you get the door, I'm trying to get mini-you to finish his cereal before the others arrive."

After this comment, there were more, quieter, muffled voices speaking inside, then the clatter of feet approaching the door. Then the feet stopped and the door was abruptly pulled open. Dumbledore found himself then looking into the startled blue eyes of a blonde man in his early thirties.

The man's eyes wide open in shock and his mouth was also hanging open in stunned silence. Then the man's mouth snapped shut. With one hand, he gestured for Dumbledore to come inside, which he did, and then with the other he slammed the doors. Once the door had been closed, the man whirled almost violently on his heel and yelled,

"Chris, Albus Dumbledore is in the lobby."

This statement confused Dumbledore, although he did not let it show. He had no memory of ever meeting this man, and the family, though famous in one magical world, had little reported experience of theirs. He did not have long to muse on this, however, as the clatter of running feet alerted him to another presence entering the room.

The headmaster looked up as another man ran into the hall, skidding to a halt just behind the blonde, who stood looking shell-shocked. The new man placed a concerned hand on the blonde's shoulder and asked, gently,

"Wy, love, are you all right?"

The softly spoken words seemed to shake the blonde out of his shocked stupor, and he turned back to Dumbledore and spoke authoritatively,

"Professor Dumbledore, is there any particular reason why you are here? Our separate magical communities are not known for interacting."

Professor Dumbledore frowned again, not recognising either of the young men before him, nor knowing why they knew him by sight, and seemed to be familiar with him. Then he noticed that the two were still waiting for an answer, and he deemed that the best way to receive the answers to his questions would be to provide answers to at least some of theirs.

"Just under ten years ago I received a rather intriguing letter, which today provided me with this address. As the matters it pertained to are exceptionally crucial, I apparated here immediately."

The two young men exchanged glances before the dark-haired one, Chris, spoke,

"I'm guessing this letter was from a Cole Turner and Phoebe Halliwell-Turner?"

It was not really a question, but Dumbledore nodded anyway. Wyatt and Chris rolled their eyes in unison and then gestured for Dumbledore to take a seat. Wyatt spoke then, his voice still rather dry, but more steady now,

"You might as well sit down, Cole and Phoebe are coming round this morning as it's Will's eleventh birthday, they should be here soon and then you can talk to them about whatever it is that you want to talk to them about."

Dumbledore frowned slightly at this,

"Will?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes,

"Will's our cousin. Phoebe is our aunt and Cole is her husband."

Dumbledore tried his hardest not to gape at this statement, as he also tried not the stare at the possessive arm Wyatt had around Chris's slender waist. Chris however saw his gaze and scowled,

"Yeah, we're brothers, we also sleep together, get over it."

Before Dumbledore could formulate a response to this statement, another person entered the lobby where they were seating. This person was a woman in her early forties, but still attractive and obviously still in top form. Her hair was long and dark, as were her eyes. Her skin was slightly tanned and she was slender enough to be almost thin. There was twinkling humour in her eyes but it disappeared when in saw the remnants of fear on Wyatt's face. She crossed to the two men and, ignoring Dumbledore, asked,

"Wyatt, are you okay?"

Wyatt sighed and shook his head slightly,

"It's difficult seeing people and remembering what I did, could still do."

The woman sighed and wrapped her arms around both of the men, who looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention. In the end, Chris ended the hug by ducking out of the woman's encircling arms. He pushed his dark bangs out of his eyes and spoke seriously,

"Piper, Professor Dumbledore's here to see Cole and Phoebe, I think that it's about Will."

All humour and compassion went out of the Piper's eyes as she whirled on Dumbledore. She raised her hands in front of her and approached the headmaster, saying as she did so,

"What do you want with my nephew?"

Dumbledore eyed Piper's hands carefully, wondering what her power was that she was obviously threatening him with. Before he could speak, however, Wyatt walked to her side and laid a hand on her arm, speaking quietly,

"Don't attack him, mum, he's on the right side."

Piper's expression didn't soften, but she did stop approaching Dumbledore and lowered her hands back to her side as she asked,

"How can you be so sure?"

Wyatt flinched slightly as he answered,

"Because if he wasn't on the side of good then I wouldn't have taken such time, effort and delight in killing him."

Chris came up behind Wyatt and wrapped his arms around the other man's waist in support. Dumbledore frowned in confusion and Chris spoke when he saw this,

"Wyatt and I are from the future."

Wyatt spoke next,

"Perhaps we should leave all the explanations until after everyone else is here. Cole and Phoebe said they'd bring Will round after breakfast."

Piper nodded,

"Yes, that's a good idea. Professor, if you'd like to come into the living room."

And with that, Piper whirled on her heel and left the room. Chris and Wyatt followed her with a gesture to Dumbledore to accompany them.

When Dumbledore was firmly ensconced in a comfortable armchair and Piper had brought him a cup of tea, Wyatt and Chris lounged on the sofa, Chris's dark head resting in Wyatt's lap. Wyatt turned from stroking Chris's hair and asked Dumbledore,

"Do you want anything else, Professor?"

Dumbledore was tempted to ask for an explanation of what was going on, but instead he requested sherbet lemons. Wyatt crooked an eyebrow, but he materialised a bowl of sherbet lemons, just as Piper re-entered the room.

"No personal gain, Wyatt."

Wyatt frowned and said,

"They're not for me."

And saying this, he handed the candies to Dumbledore. Piper frowned at this and spoke sharply,

"You shouldn't trivialise your powers, Wyatt."

Wyatt rolled his eyes and quipped,

"Mom, it's magic, not the Force."

It looked as if Piper was about to say something more, so Wyatt changed the subject,

"Where's Leo?"

Piper scowled,

"Your father had to go and talk to the other elders."

Chris sniggered,

"It's the weekly staff meeting."

Wyatt stared at the smiling face in his lap,

"They have staff meetings?"

Chris nodded,

"Yeah, every week. All whitelighters and elders have to attend, it's compulsory."

Wyatt frowned,

"Then why aren't you there?"

Chris rolled his eyes,

"I may still be the charmed ones' whitelighter, but I'm also family and part witch, I haven't been invited back into the holier-than-thou club yet and have no intention of ever rejoining."

Wyatt sighed and looked as if he were about to make some comment to Chris, when there was the sound of feet running down the stairs. The footsteps approached the door and two small bodies hurled themselves into the room at Piper, who caught both of them with ease. As she did this, Dumbledore saw two tousled heads pressed together, two eerily familiar tousled heads. He turned from staring at Piper to staring back at the two men who claimed to be from the future. Wyatt noticed his gaze and rolled his stormy blue eyes in sarcastic humour.

"We're from the future, they're our miniature versions."

Dumbledore worked hard not to gawk and to maintain his normal level of twinklitude as he did so. Wyatt noticed this and smirked. Then he turned to Piper and asked,

"Do you want to call him, or shall I?"

Dumbledore assumed that they were referring to the muggle fellytone, so, when Piper nodded that Wyatt was to 'call him' he was somewhat more than a little surprised by Wyatt's loud yell.

"Dad, tell the other elders where to go shove it and get your damn dead ass down here right this minute."

Some of Albus's shock must have shown on his normally neutral face, because Chris raised his head from Wyatt's lap and spoke sarcastically,

"Wyatt has such a charming way of phrasing things, don't you think?"

Wyatt heard this and turned from being lectured by his mother about his language to swat Chris playfully around the head in an affectionate manner. Chris continued unabashed and made sure to duck Wyatt's next, not so affectionate swat,

"It's not his fault, Professor. Wyatt was born this way. But, maybe you'd better not mention it, as Wyatt's still rather sensitive about it."

Piper turned from her continuing rant about Wyatt's bad language to chastise her other future son about teasing his brother. However, fortunately for Chris, familiar whitish-blue orbs formed in the centre of the room, taking the form of a familiar man.

However, though these orbs and figure were familiar to Wyatt, Chris, Wyatt, Chris and Piper, they were not even slightly familiar to the now slightly shell-shocked, but hiding it well, Albus Dumbledore. So, the headmaster of Hogwarts could only watch in astonishment as Leo turned, annoyed, to his oldest son.

"Wyatt, I am perfectly aware of your opinion of the Elders, but was that absolutely necessary?"

Wyatt did not answer; he merely smirked and poorly stifled a laugh behind his hand. Chris noticed this, not that it was hard to miss, and looked up at his lover's face. Looking at the expression on Wyatt's face, he gasped then burst out,

"Wyatt, you didn't?"

It was apparent that both Chris and Wyatt knew exactly what Chris was referring to and they both said nothing more, except to collapse into sniggers when Wyatt nodded. Piper, however, didn't know what they were talking about and was not in the least bit impressed by this fact, so she blew up the cushion Wyatt's head was resting on, causing both the young men to be showered in white feathers.

Chris raised his tousled head from Wyatt's feather covered lap, blowing white fluff out of his eyes and glaring petulantly from under his long fringe. The white feathers scattered in his dark hair made him look like he was going prematurely grey and he scowled as he brushed them out of his hair. He then turned his mock-hurt gaze on his mother and whined,

"Mom, what was that for?"

Piper was not in the least softened by what was an extremely impressive pout and scowled as she spoke,

"You know perfectly well what that was for, young man. Tell me what your brother did right now."

Piper placed both hands on her hips and glared at her future sons, making her young sons carefully back two steps out of the danger zone. Seeing the less than impressed look on his mother's face, Chris sent an appealing look at his older brother, who relented and answered for him,

"I may have, hypothetically called for Leo and might, hypothetically have…"

Piper frowned, distinctly less than pleased with her eldest son,

"Cut the crap, Wyatt."

Wyatt nodded quickly, obviously recognising the threat of making Wyatt baby-sit his younger self that was implicit in Piper's voice. The last time that Wyatt had been made to baby-sit himself, he had ended up covered in flour from head to toe. His younger self had then decided that it would be a good idea to soak Wyatt from head to foot in ice-cold water, a move that had not impressed the former source in the slightest. Then, Wyatt had slipped on the water-soaked kitchen tiles and had landed face first in a bowl of golden syrup. Needless to say, he had thought of every possible excuse to get out of the duty since then, but the author digresses. So, with the painful memories of becoming a pastry still fresh in his mind, Wyatt made with the cutting of the aforementioned crap. (A skill the author wishes she possesses)

"When I called Le… Dad, I did it so the other elders could hear me."

It was obvious from Wyatt's face that this was not all he had done and the expression on Piper's face informed her son that if he wanted to escape any more, possibly fatal, embarrassment, he had better continue,

"It is also possible that I may, did make a giant version of my face appear up there as I said it."

There was silence after Wyatt said this, a rather apprehensive silence, as if Wyatt did not know how Piper was going to react. And, however he expected her to react, it was probably not as she did, by bursting into peals of laughter. Before this could go any further, two things happened at once. The first was the appearance of another lot of blue orbs, which formed the body of an attractive redhead in the mid-stages of pregnancy.

The second event to happen was really two things: First, a couple who appeared to be in their late thirties blurring into the room, for that was the only way their arrival could be described. And then a column of fire appearing in the centre of the carpet, turning into a scowling boy who looked to be about eleven years old. When the woman saw how the boy had arrived, she turned on him, scowling in an expression remarkably similar to his own,

"William James Halliwell-Turner, what have we told you about flaming in the manor?"

The boy rolled his eyes in a bored manner and replied, as if reciting something he had heard many times,

"That I'm not to flame unless I really have to, and under no circumstances am I to flame in the manor."

The woman sighed,

"Yes, Will. And why did you flame here then?"

Will rolled his eyes in exasperation,

"I've told you mum. I can't help it, it's just what comes naturally to me."

The woman sighed,

"I know that, love. But you know it's dangerous."

The boy scowled fiercely,

"Why? Because if I flame I'll immediately turn into baby Lucifer again? I have better control than that."

The man spoke then,

"But apparently not enough control to stop yourself from flaming when you've been specifically told not to."

Will winced,

"Daad."

The man was not impressed,

"I'm sorry, Will. But we've talked about this. We can't risk losing you, you mean too much to us."

Will scowled,

"Because I'm immediately going to turn evil? Get over yourself, dad. I'm not like you."

It was not really a gasp, but a ripple of something went round the room, and the mother made to turn on her anti-social son, but Wyatt intervened.

"Will, I know you think everyone's fussing, but it's really for the best. You have a lot of power and 'with great power comes great responsibility'. You're just going to have to be careful, like I have to be careful and younger me has to be careful."

Will sighed,

"I guess. I'm sorry mom, sorry dad."

His parents smiled and hugged him, an activity he quickly shrugged out of. Sighing at this typically male behaviour, Piper turned towards the middle Halliwell sister and said,

"Pheebs, while you've obviously been having yet another family drama, we have a visitor who says you and Cole left him a letter when you went to collect Will from those odious Dursleys."

Phoebe rolled her eyes,

"Goddess, I'd forgotten all about that. Well, I hadn't forgotten, I just had forgotten that that was today."

Cole rolled his eyes slightly at his wife's forgetfulness and turned to Professor Dumbledore,

"You're Albus Dumbledore, correct?"

Dumbledore nodded,

"Indeed I am. You are Cole Turner, I presume?"

Cole nodded and gestured towards Phoebe,

"I am, this is my wife Phoebe and our son, William, who, as you must know, went for a time as Harry Potter."

Will looked interested,

"Did I? When? That's cool."

Cole smiled at his son,

"After you was born, when I was dead."

Dumbledore couldn't stop the words escaping from his mouth, even as he wondered what had happened to his usual self-control,

"You were dead?"

Cole smirked and quipped.

"For a bit. It didn't really take."

Helpless before the force of his own curiosity, Dumbledore asked,

"How did you… die?"

Cole smirked even more and the redhead replied,

"Oh, we killed him."

Dumbledore knew he was gaping, but dismissed it as the product of what had already been a very confusing day,

"May I ask why you killed him."

The third sister, whom he guessed to be Paige, replied to this with a perfectly serious expression on her face,

"Yeah, well, he was evil, and he was going to kill us. So we had to kill him. Then he came back, again."

Dumbledore found himself mouthing 'again', to which Cole was polite enough to reply.

"Oh, they'd vanquished me before. There was the time when Phoebe pretended to vanquish me. Then they vanquished my demon half. Then I became the Source and they vanquished me again."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, thankful to have some control over his facial expressions once again,

"The Source?"

Wyatt replied this time, looking up from the patterns he was stroking in Chris's tousled mop,

"The Source Of All Evil. Pretty much what it says on the tin really. Ultra-evil, ultra-powerful, the whole works. I was the Source in the future, so Chris came back to stop be from being turned. Then the person who turned me almost killed Chris, so I blew up the planet and came back and healed him. Then our bond made me good again. I don't really understand that part, you'd have to ask Cole, he knows more about it than I do."

Dumbledore nodded in a sage manner, trying to pretend that he actually had a clue about what was being discussed. Then he decided that he probably didn't want to understand it. He concluded that he had best return to the reason why he came here in the first place. He turned to Phoebe and Cole and asked,

"I presume, when you left your son with Lily and James, they told you the prophecy which may well have referred to him."

Phoebe nodded and Will looked up from where he was having a complex discussion with his cousins about some prank that sounded highly explosive in the least.

"There's a prophecy with me in it? Cool."

Phoebe attempted not to smile as she answered,

"Not, it's not cool, William. This prophecy means that there are lots of people who will want to kill you."

Will rolled his eyes,

"Loads of people already want to kill me. That's what comes from being the son of a Charmed One and an invulnerable uber-powerful former demon, as well as the nephew of a Elder, and the cousin of the twice-blessed child. Not to mention what the seer said about me being destined to be the most powerful magical child the world has ever seen."

Phoebe frowned at Cole, who tried to hide his smile behind his hands. She then turned back to her smirking son,

"I don't like that attitude. Just because people want to kill you all the time you shouldn't be so blasé about it."

Will quirked his lips,

"What, it's not like I'm going to get hurt by any old demon. Hello, super-powerful being here. Besides, Wyatt's teaching me how to sword-fight, plus, I'm already pretty good with throwing daggers and the crossbow."

Phoebe did not seem the least bit impressed by this statement,

"And who taught you how to use a crossbow and throwing daggers?"

All eyes turned to Cole, who tried to look innocent, but of course failed spectacularly. Phoebe frowned at her husband,

"I don't like you teaching our son how to kill."

Cole sighed,

"Will's always going to be a target, he might as well know how to defend himself."

Phoebe was in no way appeased by this statement,

"Christ, Cole. He's only eleven years old."

Cole frowned,

"And when I was his age I'd already committed ten assassinations for the Source. Will's never going to be normal, and we shouldn't ignore his need to be able to protect himself."

Sensing that this was going to degenerate into another one of his parents' arguments on whether he should be allowed to fight, Will quickly changed the subject,

"Anyway. What I'm saying is that I can take care of myself. Just because another loony wizard and his followers want me dead, doesn't mean I'm just going to lie down and die for him. Who's this guy anyway, the one who wants me dead?"

Dumbledore shook himself from his stupefaction to answer,

"The wizard is known as Lord Voldemort, and likes to call himself the Dark Lord. His followers are known as Death Eaters and bear his mark on their arms. Most people are too afraid of him to say his name however and refer to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Will snorted,

"That's dumb. Firstly, fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself and secondly, what about the people who don't know who, I mean that could really degenerate into a pointless discussion if no-one actually has a clue about who the other's talking about."

Dumbledore stifled a laugh as a polite cough and said,

"You're a unique child, Will."

Will rolled his eyes,

"Yeah, One in a bloody million, that's me."

Phoebe scowled,

"Will, watch your language."

Will ignored his mother and turned back to Dumbledore,

"So, Moldywarts and his Death Munchers want me dead. How is he any different from the rest of them?"

Momentarily confused, Dumbledore asked,

"The rest of who?"

Will shrugged, as if it ought to be obvious,

"The rest of the people who want me dead."

Trying not to think too hard about what could have made this eleven-year old boy be so blasé about people wanting him dead, Dumbledore explained the serious nature of the threat posed by Lord Voldemort.

"Lord Voldemort is an extremely powerful, extremely evil Dark Wizard. His aims, as far as anyone can tell, are world domination and extermination of all muggle-born witches and wizards."

Will interrupted him at this point,

"I see, this is mostly normal megalomaniac behaviour; a desire for power to compensate for a feeling of childhood inferiority, then a vendetta against those who made him feel inferior. I presume he started trying to gain power, a trail of murders, building up his power base and scaring people into aligning with him, then more murders to keep his supporters under control, as well as to get rid of anyone who disagreed with him?"

Dumbledore blinked,

"That is a very mature interpretation."

Will shrugged,

"It's textbook stuff. Mom's an advice columnist with several degrees in psychology and dad's a lawyer, when I'm not being shrinked over my choice of breakfast cereal, I'm being told about criminal profiling."

Dumbledore nodded, pretending to understand what this scarily over-mature eleven-year-old was talking about.

"Well, events carried out much as you described, then, at the height of his rise to power, Voldemort attacked Lily and James Potter and their young son, Harry, who apparently was you in disguise. He killed the Potters and then turned his wand on you. He used the same curse as he had used to kill countless other fully-grown witches and wizards, a curse which cannot be blocked or counteracted, a curse that no one has ever survived, so much that it is called the Killing Curse. But you survived. You came out of a confrontation with the most powerful Dark Lord in recent history with nothing more than a lightning bolt scar on your forehead, thus you became known as the Boy Who Lived."

Will listened to the explanation intently and then, after a few moments, asked,

"What happened to Moldywarts?"

Dumbledore smiled, and twinkled,

"Nobody really knows for certain. Most say that the curse backfired on him and he died. However, I am of the opinion that he was not human enough for the curse to work on him fully, so he fled, his powers weakened but not destroyed, and his body wasted."

Will nodded,

"Well, that theory would explain why Moldywarts couldn't kill me. I probably wasn't human enough for the curse to work on me either."

On seeing Dumbledore's look, Will explained further,

"My father used to be a half-demon, and I inherited that, as well as the fact that I was conceived when he was the Source of things ooky."

Phoebe quirked and eyebrow,

"'Ooky'?"

Will shrugged,

"It seemed to suit the purpose."

Phoebe frowned,

"Firstly, I'll have you know that I was the Queen of all things 'ooky'. And secondly, how much have we spent on your education for you to come up with words like 'ooky'?"

Will rolled his eyes,

"You don't pay for my education, magic school's free."

Phoebe scowled,

"Stop being such a smart-ass, anyway, that's beside the point. The only person in this family still young enough to get away with words like 'ooky' is Chris, but you don't see him using them."

Will smirked at this and then turned back to Dumbledore,

"So, now that we've established why I survived, why did Voldemort want me, or Harry, dead in the first place?"

Dumbledore looked at the young man closely, trying to judge whether or not he should tell him the truth. He decided then, that honesty would be the only way to persuade this young man to come to Hogwarts and save the Magical Community.

"Around the time of your birth, our Divinations Professor made a prophecy in which she stated that you would either kill or be killed by Voldemort, and you were the only one who could kill him. Voldemort caught wind of this news and went to kill you, and so it went."

Will nodded, absorbing this and considering it seriously,

"So, when Voldemort comes back, he's going to be pretty pissed with me, isn't he? And I'll be on the top of his 'People to Kill' list. And I also can't count on my demonic heritage to protect me all the time. I have my demonic powers, which pack a big punch and I have my magic, but I have the feeling that that's not what I need to get rid of the Voldemort?"

It was not really a question, but Dumbledore answered anyway,

"I very much doubt that your type of magic will be enough on its own to defeat Voldemort, no matter how powerful you are."

Will nodded, obviously expecting this answer,

"So, what do you advise, as I have no wish to die, particularly at the hands of someone with as ridiculous a pseudonym as Voldemort?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly,

"If you would be amenable to the plan, you can take the place at Hogwarts that Lily and James got for you after your birth, though under your real name, as the non-existence of Harry Potter is a fact and no subterfuge of this kind will be necessary."

Will smiled at this,

"Hogwarts is your guys' version of magic school, right?"

Dumbledore nodded,

"Yes, I am the headmaster of Hogwarts."

Will nodded at that and gestured towards his smiling uncle,

"Cool, Uncle Leo's the head of our magic school, ever since the former head met with an 'unfortunate accident'."

Dumbledore decided not to ask what the unfortunate accident had been that made the others around the room smirk so wickedly. Will continued,

"So, I could go to this Hogwarts place and learn how to do this wand magic?"

Dumbledore nodded and Will turned to his parents,

"Please can I go, please? I'll be really good, well good for me anyway."

Phoebe smiled at this,

"I don't see why not, though I want to know why you're so willing to leave magic school, I thought you really liked it there?"

Will frowned,

"Yeah, Magic School's cool, but it's the other students there that I'm not so cool with. They all call me evil when they think I can't hear. It'd be nice to be able to go to a school where everyone isn't watching me in case I start jumping up and down and declaring myself the ruler of the underworld."

Phoebe smiled wryly,

"I knew you were having problems at magic school, but you could have told us."

Will shrugged,

"It's not that important. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore, would it be possible to flame back home at weekends so that I could work on my powers, cause I don't want to risk losing control and hurting the other students."

Dumbledore smiled slightly at the child's foresight,

"I think that would be a most excellent plan."

Leo nodded thoughtfully then and spoke,

"I'm not sure just training at the weekends is going to be enough, Will. In fact, I don't think abandoning your education at magic school is at all a good idea. So, I'll get Wyatt or Chris to collect assignments from your teachers and bring them to you each day."

Will groaned,

"You're a harsh man, Uncle Leo, but I get the point. I don't want to accidentally incinerate one of my fellow students, or fall behind in my studies of witchcraft, not to mention that alchemy project I've just been assigned."

Cole and Phoebe nodded their agreement and the former demon turned to the headmaster of Hogwarts and said,

"It's settled then. Will shall attend Hogwarts from September, under the condition that he comes home at weekends to train and continues his studies there."

Dumbledore smiled and twinkled as he reached into his robes and pulled out a letter and a miniature golden key. Placing these on the coffee table, he said,

"In their will, Lily and James left the entirety of the Potter estate to young William here, the key here gives you access to your Gringots vault, from where your school fees shall be taken as instructed by the deceased. This letter contains your train ticket, your acceptance letter, and the details of the school year and the list of supplies you need. In it there are also instructions as to how to get to Diagon Alley, to buy your supplies if there are any you cannot get here, but I recommend you go there as well as wherever you shop here, as Ollivanders is truly the best wand maker in the world. Now, I must be off, otherwise Minerva will think I've run off with a goblin."

And with that rather obscure comment Dumbledore apparated out with a popping noise, leaving the Halliwell-Turner-Wyatt-Matthews-Brody family to celebrate and discuss what had been a rather interesting visit.

It was ten o'clock on the first of September when the Turner family shimmered into an abandoned warehouse not far from Kings Cross station. They quickly exited the warehouse, Will lagging behind and complaining loudly about the weight of his luggage. They entered the station and Will opened the envelope containing his train ticket and the details of the journey.

Will paused with his parents outside of the Burger King booth and rolled his eyes as he read the instructions.

"It says here the train departs from Platform 9¾ at eleven o'clock. Obviously, the platform can only be accessed by some kind of portal between platforms nine and ten."

Cole snorted at this comment and Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm sure that it's meant to be extremely clever, but we'd better get going, otherwise you'll never get an empty compartment to sit in."

Will nodded,

"As you command, my master."

Phoebe sighed and lightly smacked her son around the head,

"Watch your mouth, young man. And the phrase is 'as you command, my mistress'."

Will rolled his eyes and followed his parents down the passage that led from the main part of the station to platforms 9,10, and 11. They came to the divide between Platforms 9 and 10 and Will scanned the magic in the area. To his amusement, the barrier itself was revealed to be the portal entrance between the normal world and the magical platform. He pointed this out to his parents and they were just about to cross the barrier, when another family entered the vicinity of the platform.

It wasn't that this was unusual. Many groups of people were crossing the station, and some of them were families. But something with this family caught the Turner's attention. The daughter, a girl around Will's age with bushy brown hair, was pushing a trolley, with a large wooden trunk balanced on top of it, a trunk almost identical to the one at Will's feet.

The girl then pulled a parchment envelope from the pocket of her jeans and slipped out the letter it contained. As they were fairly close to the Turner's, Will and his parents could hear the girl say in a soft and confused voice that the train departed from Platform 9¾. Will saw that the parents looked as bewildered as the girl and, after nodding at his parents, crossed over to the girl, keeping his most helpful expression on his face.

"Excuse me."

The man looked at him in aggravation and he quickly continued,

"I couldn't help but overhearing you mention a Platform 9¾. Are you looking for the Hogwarts Express?"

The mother looked visibly relieved and asked,

"Have you been at Hogwarts long?"

Will shook his head,

"No, this is my first year. But I could sense the portal."

Seeing that this only confused the family, he continued,

"To get on the platform, you have to run at the barrier dividing Platforms 9 and 10."

The girl spoke up then, pushing a lock of her bushy brown hair out of her eyes in a nervous habit,

"Are you sure?"

Will shrugged,

"Well, I haven't tried it yet, but I'm pretty sure."

The mother spoke again,

"Are you from America, dear?"

Will smiled,

"It's that obvious? Yeah, I am. My family's from San Francisco."

The father saw Phoebe and Cole approaching and asked,

"Are those your parents?"

Will nodded,

"That's my mom and dad."

The father still did not look entirely trusting, but then he saw the large trunk and owl cage on the trolley Cole was pushing. Will winked at his owl, a pure snowy white owl he had named 'ebony' out of perversion. The owl was not the only pet he had purchased, but he had secreted the other on his person. Although the letter had specified that he could only but a cat, owl, or toad, he had developed a fascination with a pure black snake he had seen and, after a brief but entertaining conversation with the animal, had decided to purchase it.

The snake, which had introduced herself as Lilith, was now wrapped around Will's upper forearm, hidden by the sleeve of his jumper. He smiled at his mom as she approached and said,

"They didn't know how to get onto the platform."

Cole rolled his eyes and said,

"We guessed that. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Will sighed,

"Well, I would, but I don't actually know their names."

Phoebe sighed and held her hand out to the mother,

"My name's Phoebe Halliwell-Turner. My husband's name is Cole Turner and this is our son Will."

The mother smiled and shook Phoebe's hand,

"I'm Rachel Granger, that's my husband John and our daughter Hermione. Your son was kind enough to tell us how to get onto the platform."

As the grown-ups did their grown-up discussion, Will turned to Hermione and was about to speak when he saw the gobsmacked look on her face. He scowled and asked,

"What is it?"

Hermione managed to shut her mouth and then speak,

"You're him, you're the boy who lived."

Will groaned,

"So?"

"So?"

The girl practically screeched,

"I read about you, you're in loads of books. I hadn't thought you'd be coming to Hogwarts."

Will rolled his eyes,

"So, I'm the boy who lived. Big deal. I didn't exactly do much. I just lay there going 'goo-goo ga-ga' while some megalomaniac tried to kill me. It's not exactly something I keep on my business cards, well if I had business cards."

Hermione had the grace to blush.

"Sorry, it's just, I only just found out about magic and it's all really exciting."

Will smiled at her,

"It's cool. I mean, it was a bit of a shock to me too."

Hermione frowned,

"You didn't know about magic before you got your letter?"

Will shook his head,

"No. I've been doing magic for years, all my family is magical. But I didn't know much about this type of magic, and it was a bit of a shock to find some old geezer in a dress telling me that I had this magic too and had to go to some magic school in England."

Hermione frowned, Will reflected that it made her quite cute, with her brow furrowed in confusion,

"What do you mean, type of magic?"

Will smiled,

"My family's been magical for generations, it's our heritage. But we practise a different type of magic and apparently I'm the first to develop both types."

Seeing that Hermione was still confused, he explained further,

"We practise Wicca."

Hermione gaped,

"I thought that was just…"

Will smirked,

"New age rubbish?"

The look on Hermione's face revealed that that had been her opinion on Wicca, so Will continued,

"Most Wiccans aren't magical. But there are a lot of Wiccan witches and my family is the most powerful line in history, as far as we know. We're kind of infamous. But, the magic we practise is just as real as wand magic and just as, if not in some cases more, powerful."

Hermione smiled,

"That's cool."

Will shrugged,

"It's okay, but there are lots of expectations cause of it. I mean, at my old magic school."

Hermione frowned,

"You went to a magic school before Hogwarts?"

Will nodded,

"Yeah, it's run by my uncle."

It looked like Hermione was going to ask more questions, but her and Will's parents gestured for them to come over so that they could get onto the train. The two kids shared a look that was understood by all children in the world. The look clearly said, 'Parents'. But Will and Hermione nodded and walked over their respective adults.

Phoebe led the group over to the divider between the platforms, with Will and Hermione lagging at the back in an in-depth discussion about some movie they had seen recently. When they reached the barrier, the Grangers hung back, as if unsure what to do, but Will strolled up to the very solid barrier and stuck his arm straight through it.

Having done this, however, he pulled his arm right out again.

"Woah, that's just weird."

Phoebe rolled her eyes,

"Weird, he says. After everything we see at home, you think that's weird?"

Will scowled,

"I'm serious, it's like you can sense the magic around you."

Phoebe followed her son's example and pulled back just as quickly,

"You're right, that is weird."

Eventually, the discussion of how 'weird' the barrier was came to an end, and the party crossed through the divide, a slightly nervous Hermione leading the way, as the Turner family were still debating the weirdness of the magic.

Finally, the entire group was standing for the first time on Platform 9¾, looking at the large red steam train that sat impressively at the Platform, as groups of students and their families made their farewells and got onto the train. Will gasped slightly,

"All cheesy comments aside, that's actually kinda cool."

Phoebe smiled,

"It is at that."

Will smiled and hugged his mom then, in an impulsive display of affection that was uncharacteristic for the usually reserved teen.

"You'd better get going. If we put my stuff on the train and find a carriage, then you guys can get home. I'm sure dad has a case he's working, there are always demons to vanquish, not to mention that Elise is contemplating giving our home telephone number to that Jason Dean guy if you don't get your column in on time."

Phoebe groaned,

"Yeah, she did mention that… Hang on, have you been reading my emails again?"

Will shrugged unrepentantly,

"Listening to your messages, actually. Anyway, you may or may not have work to do, but I have three assignments from Uncle Leo to complete by the weekend."

Phoebe turned to her watching husband,

"Do you get the impression that our son doesn't want to be seen with us?"

Cole smirked,

"I do get that feeling. Do you even think he would accept our help getting his trunks onto the train?"

Will paled, and his parents laughed,

"No, no really. I'm not ashamed being seen with you. Please help me to get my stuff on the train."

Phoebe laughed,

"Did you really have to pack all this stuff?"

Will nodded,

"Of course, I needed all my stuff for Hogwarts, and my stuff for Magic School assignments, and all my books for my normal exams."

Phoebe smiled,

"I know. Come on, let's help you get all this stuff onto the train before all the good carriages are gone."

Bidding farewell to the Grangers, the Halliwell-Turner family headed towards the end of the train, where Will would be least disturbed. Locating an empty carriage, and empty compartment, they loaded on Will's trunks and bags then turned to bid him farewell.

Phoebe hugged her son fiercely, not caring about the looks he gave her,

"Be careful."

Will scowled and pulled himself out of his mom's embrace,

"Mom, chill. I'll be fine, and I'm coming home every weekend anyway."

Phoebe smiled sadly,

"Yes, I know. But I worry about you. I'm going to miss you."

Will smiled,

"I'll miss you guys too."

Cole smiled and quickly pulled his son into a very manly embrace, with lots of backslapping. As Will entered the carriage, and just before his parents shimmered out, he thought he saw beads of moisture in his dad's eyes, as well as the tears in his mom's. But that had to be his imagination, his dad never cried, not ever.

Will settled into the compartment opening one of his trunks to find his book on the uses of Mugwort in vanquishing potions. He tried to read, but he couldn't concentrate on the words in front of him, distracted by a strange ache in his stomach that he couldn't identify.

He was still attempting to study when the compartment door pushed open. He had been watching a large red haired family out of the window, laughing as two of the children attempted very successfully to drive their mother round the bend. As his attention was divided between the twins' discussion of blowing up teachers and stealing toilet seats, and his half-hearted study of Mugroot, he didn't notice the door opening until he felt somebody standing in front of him.

Scowling, he looked up, prepared to yell at whomever it was who had disturbed him, when he saw it was the girl Hermione he had met on the Platform. Then he realised something else. This wasn't Magic School. People here wouldn't know him and wouldn't know about his powers. Given Hermione's reaction to hearing his name, apparently everyone here knew who he was, but not what he was. This meant that he wouldn't be attributed the same fearful respect that he had at Magic School.

Seeing the hurt expression on Hermione's face, he sighed and put down his book, gesturing for her to take a seat,

"Sorry about that, I just value my privacy."

Hermione shifted, not sitting down,

"If you want, I can go."

Will shook his head,

"No, stay. I never really had friends at my old school, so I'm kinda touchy."

Hermione smiled tentatively,

"I didn't have many friends at my old school either."

Will smiled and Hermione, looking slightly more comfortable, sat down opposite him. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and continued,

"I read a lot, I still do. So loads of people at my old school called me a nerd and those who didn't never really took the effort to get to know me."

Will frowned,

"That's not cool, but I can relate."

Hermione perked up slightly,

"You read?"

Will shrugged,

"I read a lot of magic books, but that's for study, not leisure."

Hermione frowned,

"So, what do you mean?"

Will smiled,

"Well, everyone at my old school thought I was evil, and those who didn't were scared of me."

Hermione frowned,

"I don't understand."

Will scowled,

"It's complicated."

Will turned back to his book and attempted to study. After a while, he looked up and asked,

"Your parents seemed cool?"

Hermione flushed,

"They're okay, they're kinda overprotective though."

Will groaned,

"I totally get that. So, tell me about your family."

Hermione blushed,

"There's nothing really to tell. I'm the first in my family with magic. My parents are dentists, nothing really exciting."

Will shrugged,

"My family's totally crazy. Like I said, everyone in my family is magical. Except my Uncle Kyle."

Hermione smiled,

"That must be cool. So, tell me what your family do."

Will shrugged,

"My dad's a lawyer. He's a senior partner at a big San Francisco firm, but he does loads of Pro Bona work. My mom's an advice columnist for a newspaper. My Aunt Piper used to be a chef, but now she owns and runs one of the hottest clubs in San Francisco. Her husband, Leo, is an elder, but he's also the headmaster of Magic School. Wyatt and Chris just bum around really, and help out at magic school and P3, when they can be bothered. Aunt Paige is a Whitelighter and a Social Worker, her husband, Kyle, the one I mentioned before, is a Fed."

Hermione gaped,

"Woah, that's a lot."

Will shrugged,

"We're a crazy bunch."

Hermione nodded, then asked,

"Do you have any siblings, or cousins?"

Will smiled,

"Aunt Paige's pregnant, she's due in a couple of months. Then there's Wyatt, who's nine and Chris, who's seven. Then we have older Wyatt and older Chris."

Hermione looked like she wanted to ask what he meant by this, then decided that she probably didn't want to know.

"I don't have any family other than my parents, really. Well, my grandparents are still around, but they live in London and we never really see them."

Will smiled,

"We don't really have much in the way of grandparents, really. I mean, my mom's dad's always busy with work, but he's cool when we see him. Occasionally my mom's grams pops in, along with mom's mom, but other than that, not really."

Hermione frowned,

"What about your dad's family, or your uncles'?"

Will snorted,

"My dad's mom might still be around, but nobody wants to meet her. As for the rest, they've all been dead for years."

Hermione gasped,

"That's sad, but why don't you want to see your grandmother?"

Will rolled his eyes,

"She's evil."

Hermione frowned,

"I think I don't really want to know."

Will smiled,

"That's a good decision."

Hermione shrugged. The two of them sat in silence for a time, Will turning his attention back to his study of the people on the platform, and his book. As the hour approached eleven, the train became fuller, as students flowed into the carriages and filled the compartments. Fortunately, no students entered the compartment where the two first years sat.

At eleven o'clock, the train, with a loud blast of steam, pulled out of the station and began heading north. As the suburban view from the windows of the train gave way to more rugged countryside Will put down his book and turned to Hermione, who was reading a book entitled 'Hogwarts, the History'. When the girl noticed his gaze, she blushed red and put the book down.

Will gestured at the book,

"You've read that many times?"

Hermione flushed,

"Well, I didn't know anything about magic before getting my letter, so I don't want to be behind all the students who've been doing magic all their lives."

Will smiled,

"I understand that, I went to the Magic School library after getting my letter and read everything I could find on this magical community, as well as picking up a few books in Diagon Alley, but I didn't find that one particularly informative."

Hermione frowned,

"I've been quite impressed with it."

Will shrugged,

"It's a good enough introductory text, but there are more than a few gaping errors that serve to make everything more confusing. Not to mention that some explanations are more than a little obscure. They rely on the pretext that the person reading already knows what they're reading about, so often are more confusing than they are helpful."

Hermione nodded,

"Yes, there's this whole section on something called Quidditch, and no satisfactory explanation of what Quidditch actually is."

Will smiled,

"Yes, I disliked that part. I had to look up what Quidditch was for the chapter to make any sense."

Hermione smiled,

"Yeah, I guessed that it was some kind of sport, but I cannot work out any more than that."

Will shrugged,

"It's some sport played on broomsticks sixty feet in the air. Something like a cross between basketball, with a couple of players with baseball bats, and about four different balls. There's also one player who has nothing to do with the rest of the team, just goes around looking for this small ball with wings."

Hermione's forehead creased,

"That's unusual."

Will snorted and rolled his eyes,

"It's not unusual, it's just plain weird. I mean, what kind of witch rides a broomstick."

Hermione eyed him curiously,

"You mean, you don't ride broomsticks?"

Will grimaced,

"Not really. My mom did once, but that's because she can levitate, otherwise brooms are really only used for ritual purposes."

Hermione gazed at him, intrigued by all the new knowledge she was gaining,

"Ritual purposes?"

Will sighed,

"Brooms can be used to sweep evil from your path."

Hermione frowned,

"That's different."

Will shrugged,

"It's not done often now, it's far older, more traditional."

Hermione nodded. She was just about to say something else, but, just as she was about to speak, the door to their compartment slid open and an old lady stuck her head in and asked,

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Hermione shook her head, but Will left the compartment and came back minutes later with arms full of chocolates and sweets and drinks. Hermione stared at them and Will shrugged,

"Well, I don't know what the food's gonna be like at this Hogwarts, so I'm stocking up, just in case. You want anything?"

Hermione shook her head,

"My parents are dentists, they'd kill me."

Will glanced at her,

"They'll only kill you if they find out. What's it going hurt if you have something to eat?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip for a moment, then shrugged. Will smiled and poured most of the sweets into one of his bags, placing the rest on an empty seat between the two of them. Will grabbed a box that declared itself to contain chocolate frogs, and opened one, grabbing the frog before it could make a break for it and efficiently decapitating it.

Hermione smiled slightly at his antics and pulled a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans towards her. She opened the box and poured what she guessed to be jellybeans into her hand. Picking out one in an attractive shade of turquoise, she bit into it and squeaked.

Will whirled around to look at her.

"What is it?"

"This bean, it tastes of paint!"

Will picked up the box and shrugged,

"They must really mean it when they say every flavour."

Hermione grimaced and spat out the bean she was eating. Will laughed and poured some of the beans into his own palm. Sorting through them, he picked out a rich red one and popped it into his mouth. He quickly spat it out again,

"Blood, that's just wrong."

Hermione giggled and Will looked through the beans in his own hand more carefully, eventually choosing a pink one,

"Candyfloss, that's much better."

Hermione smiled and picked out a similarly coloured bean, grimacing as she bit into the Pepto Bismol flavoured treat. The rest of the journey passed in a similar fashion, with the two making a little conversation, but mostly just passing the journey in comfortable silence. Fortunately, they were not disturbed for the rest of the duration of the train journey.

However, finally they heard people outside beginning to change into their robes, and with Will grimacing at having to wear a 'dress', changed into their robes, getting ready just before the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. While Hermione went out of the carriage to change with some other girls, Will managed to coax Lilith into his trunk, placed between his favourite cashmere sweater and a tome on magical transformations. Entreating her with promises of lots of treats, he managed her to persuade her to use her own limited magic to stay hidden until he returned.

Then Hermione re-entered the carriage and the train came to a stop, and the two exited the carriage, entering the flood of students filling the corridors and descending from the train.

TBC.

****

AN: WELL, THAT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER DONE. OVER NINE THOUSAND WORDS, I FEEL SO PROUD. SORTING NEXT CHAPTER, WHAT HOUSE DOES EVERYONE WANT WILL TO BE IN?

WHAT DOES EVERYONE THINK OF MY CHARACTERISATION, I PARTICULARLY WANTED TO MAKE WILL DIFFERENT FROM BOTH HIS PARENTS AND HARRY.

ROMANCE? WELL, IT'S A BIT EARLY TO SAY, BUT I AM CURRENTLY LEANING TOWARDS WILL/HERMIONE

****

GOT SOME FLAMES LAST CHAPTER ABOUT HAVING Wyatt PAIRED WITH Chris. I WOULD JUST LIKE TO SAY, I DID INCLUDE A WARNING IN THE SUMMARY THAT THIS STORY CONTAINED THIS PAIRING Wyatt/Chris. IF THAT PISSES YOU OFF, THEN DON'T READ IT. ANYONE WHO CAN'T DEAL WITH IT SHOULD JUST LEAVE IT ALONE, INSTEAD OF SENDING INSULTING MESSAGES TO THOSE PEOPLE WHO ARE BROAD-MINDED ENOUGH TO ACCEPT THAT LOVE KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES. NEXT TIME, KEEP YOUR NARROW-MINDED PREJUDICES TO YOURSELVES.

ON A HAPPIER NOTE, I SAW THE SEASON FINALE OF CHARMED LAST NIGHT AND WOULD JUST LIKE TO SAY THAT IT WAS VERY COOL.

BYEE

HAKUCHIHIROLOVER


	3. Chapter 3

AN: CHAPTER TWO HERE, WHAT MORE CAN I SAY?

Chapter Two

As the students filed off the train onto the crowded Hogsmeade train station, Will made sure that Hermione was with him at all times, the girl seemed rather too shy than was probably safe and he didn't want her to get lost in the seething mass of teens. He wondered for a moment where they were supposed to be going, when a loud voice enlightened him,

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Will noted with satisfaction that he was one of the very few students who didn't gasp at the sight of the giant man. But then again, after everything that turned up at the manor and Magic school, he would have been very disappointed with himself if he had. He thought with some superiority that the man wasn't really that scary. He was tall, that was fair enough, and his face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. But his glinting black eyes were friendly. The image of danger was dispelled even further when the gigantic man beamed over the crowd,

"C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Will and Hermione joined the flood of students congregating in a lopsided train behind the moleskin-coated back of the huge man. The lantern the man was carrying guttered in the wind and it was difficult for them to see as the felt their way along the path. Will heard someone sniffing and rolled his eyes. He felt Hermione reach for his hand in the darkness and shrugged his shoulders and took it, apparently he was one of the very few not unnerved by this narrow path they were walking along. Then the tall man spoke again,

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here."

A great gasp rose from the other children and even Will allowed himself to whistle through his teeth. The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. With his keen eyesight, Will saw a flotilla of small rowing boats sitting in the water by the shore. The giant man, who, from the easily audible conversations of the other students, Will determined to be called Hagrid, spoke up then, raising his voice above the chatter that had sprouted like wild fire among the students,

"No more'n four to a boat!"

Hermione followed Will into the last boat in the group and the two of them were joined by a lanky red-haired boy and a short pasty looking boy with brown hair who looked like he was about to be sick. Hagrid had an entire boat to himself and the little fleet pushed off from the side of the lake. The journey across the glassy lake passed smoothly and soon they were bending their heads to duck under a tunnel cut into the mountain itself.

They got out of the boats, standing in a pebbled underground harbour. The pasty-skinned boy sighed with relief as Hagrid found his toad and Will rolled his eyes. Once that little drama had played its course, the group followed Hagrid's lantern up a dark passageway until they came out onto smooth, dark grass in the shadow of the castle. They mounted a flight of stone steps, worn slightly by time, and crowded around a huge oaken door.

After checking that all students, and toads, were still present, Hagrid raised one huge fist and knocked three times on the solid oak door. The knocks hadn't even echoed when the doors swung open, revealing an imposing, severe-looking witch with black hair pulled back in a tight bun. Hagrid greeted her as Professor McGonagall, and Will recognised her as the Deputy Headmistress who had written his acceptance letter.

Something about the woman's stern face automatically brought the entire cavalcade of students, and toads, into total obedience as she led them through the imposing entrance hall and into a small room.

Will listened with half an ear to her speech and absorbed the crucial fact that they were about to be sorted, the rest of her speech he had already read about. After her speech, Professor McGonagall left the room, telling them that they would be summoned shortly and admonishing them to be quiet. The quiet lasted about ten seconds, until the crowd of eleven-year olds burst into a flurry of frantic whispering. Will rolled his eyes, something, he reflected, that he had been doing a lot recently.

He was just listening in amusement to the guesses about the nature of the 'Sorting', he supposed that not telling the first years how they would be sorted was some kind of Hogwarts tradition, when screams burst out amongst the first years. Looking up, he saw that a group of ghosts had just burst into the room straight through one of the walls. One of the ghosts noticed the students and after this the discussion turned to houses, which gave Will a few seconds to think. It didn't really matter to him which house he was in, reading between the lines he had ascertained that all the houses had their failings and redeeming qualities.

Before he could muse on this any longer, the ghosts floated through the opposite wall to the one they had entered by, and Professor McGonagall returned to the room. They were quickly ordered to form a line by the stern witch, and they did this without question, Professor McGonagall just didn't seem like the type of woman you would want to cross.

They entered the hall and even Will gave in to the temptation to gaze around him as they approached the front of the hall and what Will supposed to be the High Table. The magnificent view was marred by the sea of staring faces and Will looked up, gazing at the bewitched night sky that made up the distant ceiling. Will looked down to see McGonagall solemnly placing a tattered pointed hat on a four-legged stool. This apparently was how they were to be sorted.

And just how would this scruffy looking item of clothing determine what house they were going to be in? Will's question was answered for him when the hat began to sing,

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave of heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

You're in sage hands (though I have none)

For I'm a thinking cap!"

Will sighed as the hall was filled with thunderous applause for what had been a truly appalling piece of poetry. It had, he reflected, been almost as bad as some of the rhymes he had first used when he was first writing spells. He saw Professor McGonagall bring out a large scroll of parchment and presumed that the Sorting was about to begin. Though he considered it a sad reflection on the school that the future of the students' lives at the school was determined by a talking witch's hat with a bad taste in rhyming couplets.

He watched as McGonagall unrolled the parchment and called a blonde haired girl named Hannah Abbott up to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Then Susan Bones joined Hannah before Terry Boot became the first Ravenclaw, to be later joined by Mandy Brocklehurst. A brown haired girl named Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor and a chunky dark-haired girl called Millicent Bulstrode became the first Slytherin of that year.

The hat sorted Finch-Fletchley, Justin, into Hufflepuff and then Seamus Finnigan into Gryffindor. Then it was Hermione's turn,

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione paled and Will gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a small smile. Trembling, Hermione sat down on the stool and jammed the hat onto her head with audacious fingers. It was only a moment before the hat shouted,

"**Gryffindor**"

Will smiled at her as she made her way across to the Gryffindor table, taking a seat by a tall red-haired boy Will remembered seeing on the platform. Then Professor McGonagall shouted out,

"Halliwell-Turner, William."

Whispers rose from the crowd, like bubbling water from dark springs. Ignoring it, as he was more than used to being the subject of gossip, he approached the stool and sat down, placing the hat over his head, allowing the brim to fall over his eyes. He then heard a small voice,

"_Interesting, I have not seen one of your type in many years."_

Will rolled his eyes,

"I'm not that interesting."

"_I retain the right to disagree with that. I find you most interesting. One of your magic has not attended this school in many years."_

"Will you just hurry up and sort me, already."

"_Impatient, aren't we?"_

"Tell me, you're the one reading my mind."

"There's no need to be like that, boy. Just stating my opinion. You have an interesting past here, lots of ambition as well. Yes, there's only one place for you."

"Will you get on with it."

"**Slytherin**"

Absolute silence filled the hall after this pronouncement. When the other students had been sorted, there had been applause from the houses, but not this time. Will frowned, was it because of what he had apparently done when he was a baby? If so, he was going to have to set a few things straight among the students of Hogwarts, one of them being to leave him the hell alone, pardon the pun. Maybe Hogwarts wasn't going to be as different from Magic School as he had at first hoped.

Frowning, he removed the sorting hat from his head, gave it one last glare and walked calmly over to the Slytherin table. Well, he at least looked calm. Inside, he was seething, how dare these people make assumptions about him? As he sat down at the least populated area of the table, he felt fire burning behind his eyes and swore. He doubted the using fireballs to blow up one of the other tables would make a good first impression on the school. And he knew he was using his powers from the Source's side of him too much, as much as he wanted to deny it.

Glaring around him, he calmed himself down internally and watched in boredom as the sorting continued. The pudgy-faced, pasty-skinned boy with the toad was sorted into Gryffindor and turned out to be called Neville Longbottom. A sneering boy with slicked blonde hair and arrogant grey eyes called Draco Malfoy was sorted in Slytherin. Malfoy sat down opposite Will and the two boys exchanged nods, seemingly content from then on to ignore each other.

The red-haired boy who had been in their boat turned out to be called Ron Weasley and was sorted into Gryffindor, to the applause of a gaggle of other red-haired boys, whom Will assumed to also be Weasleys. The sorting ended as Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, and despite Will's glares, took his seat next to him. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the sorting hat away and the last cheers from the Slytherin table died away into silence.

Will recognised Albus Dumbledore as he rose to his feet with a ridiculous smile pasted on his face, his eyes twinkling at Mach 4.

"Welcome, Welcome to a new tear at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank-you."

And Dumbledore sat down again, amidst the laughter of the students. Then the golden plates lining the long house tables were filled with foods of every human variety. To Will, who had on occasion dined with fairies, leprechauns and elves, this was not so amazing, but most of the students were clearly impressed by the display. Will calmly helped himself to several slices of roast beef and filled his plate with the trimmings, before soaking the entire lot in gravy.

Unfortunately, the only drink available seemed to be jugs of pumpkin juice, which Will detested passionately. So he poured himself a goblet and, checking no one was looking, he waved his hand of the gloopy liquid, transforming it into Coca-Cola, mentally thanking future Wyatt for teaching him the spell.

At first the other students ignored him, not speaking to him except to ask for him to pass dishes, or other such tasks. Then Malfoy leant over the table and asked him haughtily,

"Halliwell, who are your parents?"

Dark-haired Zabini, next to him, rolled his eyes, obviously used to Malfoy's antics, while the two lumps of muscle either side of Malfoy continued to glut themselves on food. Will smiled calmly and replied equably,

"It's Halliwell-Turner."

Will felt rather than saw the blood-covered spectre sitting next to him look at him, but he ignored it and watched Malfoy. The blonde shrugged,

"Whatever, who are they?"

Will seemed completely unperturbed by the other boy's arrogant manner, and answered,

"My mother's name is Phoebe Halliwell-Turner and she's an advise columnist for a San Francisco newspaper. My father's name is Cole Turner and he's a senior partner with the law firm Jackman Carter and Kleine."

Malfoy frowned,

"They're muggles?"

Will rolled his eyes,

"If by that you are asking if they're non-magical, then no, they're not muggles. They just happen to have jobs in what you would refer to as the muggle world."

Malfoy sniffed slightly,

"I haven't heard of your family name, what bloodline are you from?"

Will smiled,

"Well, in this world, I'm the sole legal heir to the Potter family. But my mother is, along with her two sisters, the direct descendant of Melinda Warren."

The ghost next to Will spoke up then,

"You are descended from Melinda Warren?"

Will nodded,

"Yes, you knew her?"

The ghost shook his head, well, as much as a ghost could shake his head,

"No, she was before my time, but I have heard of her and the legend of her descendants. You say your mother is one of three sisters?"

Will nodded,

"Yep."

The ghost looked excited, for a ghost at least,

"So they are…?"

Will nodded,

"That would be them."

The ghost was intrigued,

"I haven't heard of your father though."

Will shrugged

"You wouldn't have, not by the name he uses now, anyway."

The ghost leant towards him,

"Then by what name would I have heard of him by?"

Will smiled,

"Balthazar."

The ghost, if it were possible, paled,

"You are his child?"

Will nodded,

"As I have said he is my father, I believe that we have established that fact."

The ghost asked then,

"So, you are partly…?"

Will shook his head,

"No, that part of him died before I was born, quite literally. My powers come from another Source, you might say."

The ghost looked almost afraid, almost.

"You are referring to…"

Will nodded,

"My father was the Source for a time, and it was then that I was conceived."

The ghost paled further, and Will guessed that if he had been alive he would have been an unattractive shade of green. A similar shade, he mused, to the colour he himself had been after he had walked in on his parents at a rather intimate moment and had been the recipient of 'The Talk'.

"So your father is still…?"

Will shook his head,

"Nah. You could say that my mom and her sisters, sorted him out."

Will then turned from the ghost, back to his meal and was pleasantly pleased to discover that it was just as hot as it had been when he had taken the food. Even if the students seemed to have very few redeeming qualities, except maybe for the girl he had sat with on the train, Hogwarts seemed somewhat promising. The food was good, just as good as his Aunt Piper's, the magic was interesting and at least the ghosts were somewhat intelligent.

As he was musing on this, Malfoy spoke haughtily,

"What are you talking about?"

Will turned from his potatoes to the blonde,

"That is none of your concern. Anyone with manners would be able to see that. But you obviously have none. I would ask if you were born and raised in a barn, but you probably wouldn't be able to recognise it as an insult."

Malfoy flushed scarlet and Will thought for an entertaining moment that steam was actually going to come out of the other boy's ears. The Blaise Zabini spoke from where he was sitting watching to interaction with some amusement. The dark-haired boy's voice was dry and sarcastic, and his eyes were a most unusual shade of violet,

"Do feel free to ignore Malfoy. The rest of us do, except for Crabbe and Goyle, who don't have the brains to survive without his intervention. He's a pompous ignorant bastard, but you'll get used to him."

Will smirked slightly,

"You speak from experience?"

Blaise nodded and sighed in a put upon manner as he answered,

"Indeed I do. Our parents are all 'friends' so we all grew up together."

Will shook his head in mock-commiseration,

"So you've head to put up with him all your life?"

Blaise nodded sadly,

"Indeed."

Will looked sympathetic,

"I feel great sympathy for you all."

Malfoy sputtered and Blaise said,

"Oh, put a sock in it Malfoy. He's obviously from a famous wizarding line in America, or the Baron wouldn't have heard of him."

He then turned back to Will,

"Malfoy's not that bad, actually. When he's not being arrogant, that is."

Will smirked,

"That would be when he's asleep?"

Blaise shook his head,

"No, he even snores arrogantly."

Malfoy burst out then,

"I do not snore."

There had been a slight lull in conversation and it lulled further as Draco's high-pitched complaint travelled across the hall. Malfoy turned pink beneath his white-blonde hair and returned his attention to the tureen of Brussels sprouts sitting in front of him. Seeing this, Will grinned wickedly and spoke to Malfoy,

"Hey Malfoy, I know a sure-fire way to check for insanity."

Malfoy looked up at him doubtfully, so Will continued,

"Look at those Brussels Sprouts in front of you. Tell me what you think of them."

Malfoy stared at him, then at the sprouts, then at Will again. Finally he spoke,

"They're…… green."

Will shook his head.

"Beeeeep. Wrong, you're insane. The only sane thing to think when looking at a bowl of Brussels sprouts is; 'Bleargh'."

Both Blaise and Draco gave Will very strange looks and Blaise asked,

"Are all your family like you?"

Will smirked,

"Nah, I'm the sanest one."

Draco shuddered,

"I seriously hope you're lying."

Will smirked wider,

"Oh, absolutely not. I have four cousins and another one of the way. Technically, I have two cousins, but I have two of each one. The older ones are from an alternate future where my mom killed my dad and I was never born. Younger Chris and Wyatt are the biggest pranksters ever. Future Wyatt likes to jump off the Golden Gate bridge and seeing how close he can get to hitting the pavement. And Chris is almost too neurotic to function."

The other two nodded sagely, as if they actually had a clue about what he was talking about. Will sighed and turned his attention back to his Yorkshire Pudding. The rest of the meal passed fairly quietly for Will at least. After the main-courses had all been consumed, the gold platters returned to their earlier sparkling state, until they were once again filled with a wide range of desserts.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat at the high table, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. The last remnants of the puddings disappeared and everyone fell into a hushed silence. Then Dumbledore began to speak,

"Ahem- just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would so well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling gaze fell onto a pair of red-haired twins at the Gryffindor table that Will guessed to be the siblings of Ron Weasley. The Weasley twins smiled and waved back at the headmaster, obviously very unrepentant for breaking the rules. Dumbledore twinkled harder and continued,

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

Will looked at the rather mangy looking man standing at the door of the hall and grimaced. He guessed also that the rule about magic in the corridors was not a rule that was respected much, if the smirks on most of the older students' faces were any indication. Dumbledore seemed to know this as well.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Will rolled his eyes, he had yet to understand the fascination the wizarding world had for this game Quidditch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few people laughed nervously, but most of the students didn't. Somehow, Will knew that Dumbledore was very serious about this particular declaration. But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to find out what was hidden in the school. Then Dumbledore's face brightened,

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

Will smirked as he noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. The words of the song flew out of the end of Dumbledore's wand and formed themselves in gold ribbon. Dumbledore beamed at them all,

"Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go."

And the school bellowed,

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains rot."

Will picked the Cancan and finished the song as quickly as possible, but the Weasley twins had chosen a slow funeral dirge and were the last to finish, with Dumbledore using his wand as a conductor's baton. Wiping imaginary tears from his twinkling blue eyes, he spoke,

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now bedtime, off you trot."

The other teachers seemed significantly less saddened by the announcement of it being time to leave. The Slytherin first years followed on behind a burly fifth year prefect called Marcus Flint. Will tried to memorise the route they had taken from the Great Hall, but the winding corridors and passageways that led down to the dungeons were so complicated that he could not. Will had the distinct suspicion that Flint was taking the most complicated possible route down to the dungeons for some obscure reason.

Finally Flint came to a halt in front of a portion of bare, damp stone wall. Flint cleared his throat and the entire group fell silent,

"Try not to forget the password in the first week. It's _Salazar_."

A concealed door in the stone wall slid open and they entered the Slytherin Common. Will looked around. The Slytherin Common Room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in carved chairs. A portrait of a serious looking man with green eyes and black hair hung above the fireplace. Flint spoke once again,

"Welcome to Slytherin house. The dormitories are through the far door on the right. Girls are on the right, boys on the left. Don't be late for breakfast and lessons start first thing tomorrow."

With that, Flint scowled at them until they started walking towards the door. Will turned to Blaise and muttered,

"Charming fellow, isn't he?"

Blaise rolled his eyes as they pushed the door to the boys' dormitory open.

"You should see him on a bad day."

Will crossed over to his trunk, pushing the lid open and, after having checked that Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle were all otherwise occupied, he withdrew Lilith and placed her under his pillow. He then slipped out of his uniform and into the signed Green Day t-shirt he had gotten when the band had played at P3 during the summer. He set his alarm for six the next morning, thanking Wyatt for enchanting it and his MP3 player to be able to work around magic.

He then nodded to Malfoy and Zabini, turned on his MP3 player, and got into bed, eventually falling to sleep to the opening lines of the Cradle of Filth song 'Ebony Pressed for Sunset'.

demrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahcdemrahc

Will woke at six the next morning to the shrill buzzing of his alarm clock. Waving his hand, he turned off the alarm and tried to woke out where he was. The dark green velvet of the hangings around the four-poster bed and the rough stone walls of the dormitory were a far cry from his monochrome oriental style bedroom back at the penthouse where he lived. Then he remembered that he was at Hogwarts and in the Slytherin dormitory.

Slipping silently out of bed, he tiptoed past his sleeping year-mates and into the showers adjoining their dorm. He had a quick but hot shower and dressed in the semi-dark of the underground dorm. He pulled on a faded pair of black Levi's and a Metallica t-shirt. Towelling his hair dry, he pulled his robes out of his trunk and threw them at the end of his bed.

He then found and fed Lilith, telling her to go and look round the school, but not to get into any trouble. Then, he picked up his homework from, well, home and began to work. He had finished the first of his assignments from Magic School, the exceptionally boring essay on the uses of Mugwort, and was just starting on his algebra, when the others in his dorm began to wake.

Malfoy was the first of the others to wake, and the blonde boy ran into the bathrooms and had showered, dressed and spent ten minutes in front of a mirror doing his hair, by the time Blaise awoke. Blaise's early morning routine was similar to Malfoy's except without the hair obsession. By the time The other two boys were both ready for breakfast, Crabbe and Goyle were still snoring away like warthogs. The three boys exchanged glances and Will put down his books and asked,

"I don't suppose either of you have learnt how to wake the two of them up?"

The two shook their heads,

"Not a clue."

Will rolled his eyes,

"You obviously don't have cousins."

It wasn't a question and the other two exchanged confused glances. Will sighed and crossed over to the space between the two beds that Crabbe and Goyle had been allocated. He turned and glared at the two other boys and said in a deadly voice he had learned from his father and future Wyatt,

"You will tell no-one of this."

With that, Will waved his hand and a bucket of water appeared over each of Crabbe and Goyle's heads. The buckets emptied themselves on the sleeping boys below them and then disappeared. The other two stared as the now soaked Crabbe and Goyle sat up in bed, grunting and growling in an animalistic manner. Will scowled at them all and said,

"Get dressed, or we'll be late for breakfast."

With that, Will returned to his bed and picked up his algebra books again and went back to work, ignoring the shocked wizards around him. Finally, Crabbe and Goyle were dressed and washed, so it was time for the new Slytherins to go down for breakfast and their first day at Hogwarts.

TBC.


End file.
